Let us get swiftly over with the world-transitioning sequence because I remember jack-shit about it. Despite all the claims about their safety, the truth is I got killed by Coronavirus vaccines and 5g. Not from a heart attack or a fried brain, though: a truck loaded with the vaccines ran me over because the driver got distracted watching funny cat videos.
The son of his mother didn’t even realize he had become the first manufacturer of Mauro-based carpets in the world. Or at least in Avellaneda. That said, whoever stole my deck of Magic the Gathering will have a good life, as I always carried an original of Black Lotus as a lucky charm. That piece of cardboard is worth more than your apartment, fella.
To make things worse, I expired while listening to Yuridia’s greatest hits booming on the stereo of a nearby car. Thanks fellow citizen, very cool.
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Next thing I knew is that I woke up in a hospital room, and a Giant Schnauzer Non-Descript Trading Game Card with a textbox design conceived by the HR department floated next to my head.
“Neat, brain damage.”
“Hello, my name is Rizen, and I was assigned by the fickle goddess that manages this world to be your companion and introduce you to the most important aspect of our world.”
“Nerdy card games?”
“Yes.”
“With land-flood?”
“No.”
I touched my hair. Still single strands. I plucked one out. Still ginger.
“Neat, the brain damage hasn’t turned me into a Bootleg-Yu-Gi-Oh! character.”
Just then I noticed the bedsheets were made out of playing mats sewn together. At least the seamstresses had a stable job, considering the durability of those things.
“Be honest with me for a second little… floating… piece of … magic cardboard.” I muttered. “Why are you called like a famous line of AMD processors?”
“I expected you to ask if you were dead before that, Master.” It floated a bit around the room, and, by following it with my stare, I noticed the hospital equipment and furniture were nonsensical prompts. “I am called Rizen because it is a pun with the name of my breed. Spelled with I, ‘Rizen’, not with Y.”
“Okay, what happened is this: I got isekaied to a world where card games are important. In a very clichéd way. And you are sort of a magical guide and… Wait a second.” I slapped my crotch. Yep, everything was still there. “Okay, no card capturing magical girl. That’s good, still, I think—“
“I can think for you, Master,” Rizen interrupted me.
“First of all, I am renaming you according to the customs of my land: You are now called Blacky. Second: Holy fuck I should have attended church and confessed my sins,” I blurted out in less time than it took to read a pendulum monster’s effect.
“Do you want me to sing Marolio’s jingle to comfort you, master?” he offered with a calm voice.
“Can you provide me a gun? That would be more comforting.”
Blacky spun around a bit. He then went to the heart rate monitor, sniffed it loudly, extended a fluffy leg out of the card’s artwork, and peed on it.
“Jesus Christ making kick flips, that’s horrifying.”
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“What is horrifying, Master?” He turned, still peeing. I needed a bath anyway. “Good thing I haven’t called you Zeus. Now lead me to somewhere I can take a shower.”
“Your wish is my command,” and he hovered out of the room, with a wet and smelly Mauro following.
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I took a quick bath in a giant kitchen sink embedded in the ground. I didn’t ask why, it was clearly positioned there to torture newcomers, fill them with doubt as their talking floating dog cards say “master” over and over and over again.
“Hey Blacky, do you like water?” I asked while I figured out a way to crawl out of the sink-bathroom.
“I am fond of the substance, master. But I am a card.”
“You are plasticized,” I sneered.
“If pee can get out, water can get in. Basic math, esteemed leader.”
Then I decided that, being already dead, running a bit to grab on the sink edges, even if it risked slipping, was worth the effort. After the third try, I managed to get out and I got dressed with the clothes that were mysteriously placed next to it.
“Okay, so, there is a sort of deity or preternatural force here, and it wants people to play card games, correct?”
“Yes, Master,” he confirmed my worst fear.
“How do I get cards?”
“We go to The Warden’s room and you will get a starting kit.”
I sighed. Stared at the big metal faucet. Maybe if I could hang myself from it, I could avoid this terrible fate.
“Okay, lead the way, I need to make enough credits or money or whatever… to buy rope,” I said.
“You can’t buy rope, only cards and booster packs.” Blacky informed with a uniform tone.
“What about food?”
“Booster packs!”
I lowered my gaze. Sat on the white, featureless floor, next to the colorful, feartureful towels. “Is the card game fun at least?”
“No.” He honested in a way only a dog would be capable of.
“Lead the way,” I groaned, and Blacky shot fof via the nearest door. And I thought my life on Earth sucked…
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Past a sliding metal door, we entered a room whose walls were covered with balls. Tennis balls, small rubber balls, some football… balls. Among the balls, one could see white rope with both ends tied, perfect to play tug of war with a fluffy friend, yet not good enough to hang myself.
At the far end of the titanic room, a mound of metal plates and wires lay immobile.
“Fundamental question: do I have to clean this shit?”
“No, Master, this is the Warden’s room, he provides a way of farming GBP without needing to interact with other human beings,” he explained as if he had been raised to do so. Very excited, Blacky was.
“GBP is the currency for buying booster packs?”
The floating card inclined forward and backwards, in a weird sort of nod.
“So if I want to eat I need to, I guess, beat this thing,” I pointed at the mound of wires, “In a card game?”
“Indeed, indeed.”
“And how much is the return of income? How many geebeepee do I get per duel? How expensive is a booster pack?”
Blacky hummed for a few seconds before answering. “Well, the first duel won gives one GBP, the second in a row two, and so on. Each multiple of ten is a special duel against a boss deck with some spicy special conditions that affect both players. They reward ten times as much income as their duel number (henceforth level or stage). This goes on infinitely, in theory, but each level is harder than the last. The warden will goldfish a lot in the first matches, just to provide an example, but play faster and/or more synergistic decks with each level you advance.”
“If you lose, do you have to start again?”
“Yes and no. You cannot fall more than nine stages at a time. So if you lose the second boss fight, you go back to the eleventh level. It’s loss streaks that cripple your progress, not a single unlucky match.”
I pondered for a second. “And how much is a booster pack worth?”
“There’s beginner’s offers that make your first ten packs to be worth two-hundred each, then they are at four-hundred apiece for the normal, basic pack. The legendary pack is fifty-hundred thousand and includes five cards of the highest rarity, guaranteed.”
I slapped my guide/companion, and it spun in place, never stopping hovering.
“Food, the pack that gives food,” I demanded.
“Basic packs have a chance in five to contain a food item, and you can eat cards you have more copies of than you can use in a deck.”
I stood in place and blinked like an idiot.
“Come again?”
“Deck of Dogs is the first collectible card game in the multiverse to feature edible cards.”
My only question was why, but I wasn’t going to ask it. Not to a giant schnauzer. These were the whims of some sick deities that… enjoyed edible card games, I guess.
I paced from side to side, fidgeting with my hands. I had died, and this was hell. I would have preferred the pitchforks to tasty—or at least I hoped— dog ccgland, but it was what it was.
“So, Blacky, what can you tell me about my starting collection?”
“It will be given to you after you activate the Warden. It’s shit.”
“Par for the course in card games, I guess.”
So I advanced, approaching the Warden, prepared to insult every last member of the celestial choir after I saw the full extent of how shitty my new life was going to be.